Maroun Semaan with his wife, Tania, a member of the AMIDEAST Lebanon Advisory Board at Balamand University Lebanese philanthropist, entrepreneur to be honored at AMIDEAST Award Gala, October 14, 2017, in Beverly Hills, California WASHINGTON, BEIRUT—Lebanese philanthropist and entrepreneur Maroun Semaan will be posthumously honored for his significant contributions to the advancement of education at …
Philanthropist and entrepreneur Maroun Semaan will be posthumously honored for his significant contributions to the advancement of education.
My friends and I crowd around one of the seven sheep on a rooftop that glows orange in the Rabat sunset. “I really wish you hadn’t named him,” I tell Andrew.
“Look at that face, it’s his name!” Andrew responds, and I have to agree, as Milton looks up at us and I let him take a lick of my Moroccan mint tea.
“Sorry about this, buddy,” I say and give him another pat.
Eid is a holiday that encompasses almost all conceivable cultural differences between America and Morocco, the clearest difference being that each family slaughters a sheep on the rooftop apartment complexes.
Coming from a place like New York City, where the most popular restaurant on my block is a vegan joint, I find it hard to imagine a tradition like this ever taking place in the U.S. Although I’d been raised on the desensitizing violence of American television, I had no experience with the reality of something much more ordinary: meat preparation. This stands in stark contrast with my host sister, Wiam, who is a stereotypical ‘girly-girl’ teen. She wears crop-tops, skinny jeans, and loves American boy bands, yet her Moroccan roots shine through as she describes to me a Claymation children’s movie about Eid, in which the sheep has a song and dance about not knowing what her future holds. Wiam laughs so hard at this that orange juice comes out of her nose.
Another difference: leading up to Eid, the Rabat streets, an urban setting full of cars and pedestrians, are also filled with sheep being led into people’s homes. It’s hard to picture what would happen if hundreds of sheep were herded down Park Ave, yet in Morocco, no one looks twice. Many are kept on the rooftops, but one of my friends says his sheep is kept inside their bathroom, and every time he walks by he hears a little, “bahhh.” The sheep’s sacrifice represents Ibrahim’s willingness to sacrifice his son to God. Therefore, the sheep is cared for and tended to, and when the sacrifice happens, it’s considered sacrilegious to let it see the knife. The idea is to be humane, do it as quickly and painlessly as possible, and don’t waste any of the meat. The whole family comes together to prepare and feast on it, and traditionally they eat the liver first.
When the holiday arrives, my small and gentle host dad, who is tasked with carrying out the slaughter, warns us not to go out because the streets are filled with blood. I think that’s one reason my host-sister and I both like Eid: Wiam, a dramatic teen, and I, an American who has never partaken in something like this before, both find ourselves at a vantage point that lets us see not only the religious importance, but the shock-value as well. There’s something special about a holiday that finds itself in the rare cross-hairs of being wholesome, significant, and gruesome all at once.
When my host dad is ready, I move to watch, until I feel my host mother pull my arm and cover my eyes, saying, “I don’t think you can handle this, dear.” And through the cracks of her hands, I can just make out sixteen-year-old Wiam, with her nail polish and ballet flats, excitedly sprinting over without hesitation.
Congratulations to our ninth weekly winner and geography student, @natalie_dm13, for sharing her #GoOutside photo on this #AMIDEAST program in #Morocco! #UtahAbroad #UofU @UofU_Geography #UniversityofUtah Beautiful view!
tomorrow will be long and mix of emotions it will be my last working day so im sad and at night the office invited us to one of the biggest restaurants for christmas and it will be nice goodbye
I thought I would elaborate a little bit on what exactly the "study" part of this "study abroad" semester entails. Of course, there's never a typical day or a normal class when it's in Amman.
Because the majority of the population is Muslim (about 92%), the week is from Sunday through Thursday to leave Friday open for people to attend mosque. Every morning during the school week, I have Modern Standard Arabic level 102 in the morning with a small class of 4. MSA or "fahs hah" is the Arabic that is written, used in newspapers, and heard on TV.
But what do people actually speak every day in Jordan? For that, we learn Jordanian Arabic or "amiyah" which is the local dialect. It differs in key words and helps us to communicate in everyday life. If we spoke in Modern Standard Arabic, it would be like speaking Shakespearean English. Hilarious to those around you, but also not very practical.
Besides Arabic-filled mornings, I am taking three other courses in the afternoons. First is "Food and Culture" taught by Professor, or Ustaaza, Carla Daughtry. She's my anthropology major advisor back at Lawrence University and a wonderful professor who loves "experiential learning." We are reading about Arabic food, going to cafes for class to eat, and talking about our own food experiences here. We'll even go to a cooking school as a class!
Speaking of food experiences, here is a homemade dish my host mom Lina made called "musakhren." It is a traditional Palestinian dish of chicken and red onion over bread. Absolutely "zakki!" (delicious)
My roommate Nora loves it. Sahtain! (bon appétit!)
My second class is the fascinating and intense "Contemporary Islamic Thought." So far we've learned about the basics of Islam and how it is incorporated in life, politics, and world issues. Our professor has amazing patience and responds to our many questions carefully (and he surprisingly never laughs at us). He is all about interfaith dialogue and peace, so he's pretty much the best.
On interfaith dialogue, below is a sunset over Jerusalem and the West Bank taken from a Dead Sea lookout point:
Finally, I have an Independent Study Project course, as do the other ACM students. I'm planning on an anthropological study about women and leadership in the workplace. I can't wait to see what I discover! There will be more on this in future posts.
But there it is folks! Next time I'll write about our excursion adventure to Jerash and Ajloun and our hiking trip to Wadi Al Hassa.
